"Pray for Janet"

Standing at my kitchen counter, surrounded by little Ukrainians, laughing as we made Ukrainian Coleslaw, I thought, It can't get any better than this. Rob had graciously stepped aside this time so James could chop the cabbage and Peter could stir the dressing.

For a while today it hadn't been this good, and as Keith Green says, I'd almost "listened to one one of the devil's wicked lies... If you believe them your faith just dies." For some reason, when I told the three boys we were going down to say hello to some elderly neighbors, James balked. Peter loved Ms. Kay's musical Santa collection and Mr. Billy's animated fishing stories, but a cloud came over my heart, as I became aware that beside me James was not smiling.

I pretended not to notice, till we got home and he said to me, "I no hungry," climbed up onto his top bunk, and put his head under the pillow. That's when I wanted to know what was going on.

I recalled how someone had said that once a child has run away from the orphanage, they can be trouble if you adopt them. Yet, God was the one to select James as our son. It was so undeniably Him that, risky or not, he was ours to rear, and I must not let some little funk of his control me.

When James got out of bed and went outside without coming to lunch, I went and stood beside him by the pond and prayed. I said, "James, you did not come to lunch. Our family eats, drinks, talks and laughs at lunch, but no James. Not good. We are family. You come too. Understand?"
He looked at me with a big smile and said he understood, so I left it at that.

A friend emailed to say that when some kids from the orphanage stayed at their place for two weeks, now and then they would shut down. Then she prayed for our home, for God's protection and grace upon us. It was after that that Maggie put on Keith Green's CD, and his words reminded me what else we were dealing with.

So I willed to trust in the Lord, and I willed to trust in James. He has been through much more than any twelve year old should have to bear, and he has a lot to think about. He chose to come with our family, and he will be true to his word. He is a good boy.

It is good to have our Maggie home from college. It was she who found a lively version of the Ukrainian "Carol of the Bells" on the Internet and put the earphones on James so he could listen. And to his delight, it was she who taught him to play the four repeated notes to the song on the piano.

It was also tender-hearted, dog loving Maggie who bought a squeaky dog toy for Skipper. Peter ran to get it, and Maggie and Rob and I sat on rockers on the front porch and howled as he and James threw it back and forth. Skip went crazy. He dove in between them and darted away with the thing. He ran circles around them, through their legs, entertaining them for almost an hour. That wonderful black dog never left them.

I finally had to go make supper. After a while they and Rob came laughing into the kitchen. Peter put his face up close to mine and asked in perfect English, "Mom, is my face red?" "Yes, Peter it is, and so is James'. You look so healthy and happy! ...And does my kitchen ever smell like sweaty boys!"

After they'd all washed they faces and hands, they wanted to know what was for supper. James took me to the freezer and pointed to the icecream. "Mom, ees this day for this food?" "No, James, that is for Sunday." "Oh, Ah-kay." Both of them delight in whatever food I prepare and Peter pretends to swoon in ecstacy over the smell of what I am cooking. They also absolutely adore raw carrots and cabbage and grapes and oranges, and put their noses close to the hamburg meat and say, "Ahh!"

Bob has measured them, and we are watching to see how fast they grow. We have made a rule that once the meal is over you stop eating. I noticed at bathtime that James' tummy has already filled out, and soon Peter won't laugh and say, "My pants are falling down!" Sometimes into my mind will flash the age progression of each that God gave me last January. They will be tall, handsome young men in sweaters, one blond and one with brown hair.

After bathtime Bob read to them from a picture book about cowboys in the old West. With all his wonderful firmness with them, they love him. This morning, Bob's first day back at work since we left for Ukraine, each of them came to me and asked, "Where Dad is?" They snap to attention when he says, "Enough, boys!" but put their heads on his chest when he hugs them at bedtime.

After story, they had another treat - their dear friend, who had introduced me to the boys' orphanage, was on the phone. She was at her parents' place, and some folks were over for an informational gathering about adoption. Among those present were two little girls adopted a couple months back, one from James' and Peter's grade 6 class. When I told our friend that Zhenya was right beside me, he spoke up. "It ees James." That did my heart good.

As I tucked him into bed he leaned toward me in the dark. "Mom," he said, "I email computer Lienna?"
"Certainly you may," I answered. "Victoria will help you make an English letter tomorrow."
"Ah-kay," then, "Now you pray for Janet?"

Janet? Janet who? Who is Janet? There was something on the dear boy's mind other than all the excitement, but who could this Janet be? He reminded me. "She no hear and no speak. " His first day here, a deaf mute, young woman had packed our groceries and taken them out to the parking lot at Winn Dixie. She had smiled and made the sign for prayer. James knew what she meant, and here he was a week later wanting to pray for her.

Before bathtime this evening I had pulled the kids out the front door to see the trees in the west silhouetted against a flaming red sunset. I said, "Look what God made, you guys!" And Peter said, "Slava Boga", Praise God. I agree, Peter. Slava Boga for all the neat things He did today.